


PS 1543 

. D355 

Copy 1 THE 




WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE.! 



j BOSTON: 

1 W. D. TICKNOR & CO. I 

j 1847. I 



THE 



WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 



BOSTON: 
W. D. TICKNOR 8c CO. 

1847. 






Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1847, 

BY W. G. DIX, 

In the Clerk's office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



ADVERTISEMENT, 



Beside the incongruity of the title with the season 
of the year, the writer cannot but be aware of the 
uncertainty of attempting a publication of this char- 
acter in this country, where the writings of our new 
writers are generally received with coldness and 
distrust, and those of foreigners with eagerness and 
avidity. The national policy discourages manufac- 
tures at home for the sake of the products of for- 
eign skill. The same rule is applied to literature. 
An American who has the will to contribute to letters, 
and seeks hearers among his own countrymen, must 
forego his purpose, unless he have a private fortune, 
which will enable him to write, whether the people 
hear or forbear, and must prostitute his talents by 
editing a newspaper, bury himself alive in one of the 
learned professions, engage in some occupation that 
will leave but a few wearisome hours for his chosen 
pursuit, which, certainly, as much as any other, de- 
mands the undivided energies of the mind, or turn 
Democrat and seek office. Hence it is not a matter 
of surprise, that nearly all the permanently valuable 
literary works that have been produced by Americans 



4 ' ADVERTISEMENT. 

have been written by men of independent fortunes, 
and that many that have been written by others have 
been fostered under more genial and gracious influ- 
ences than can be found in America. We cannot 
have, and we desire not to have, a national literature, 
so long as we regard the pursuit of letters as an 
aristocratical amusement merely, and not as an hon- 
orable calling. Our great injustice towards foreign 
authors, by which we are enabled to flood the land 
with their unpaid for productions, is severely recom- 
pensed by the crushing of native talent, which would 
otherwise be exerted. 

Men of mature age are now living among us, who 
have fine natural powers worthy of the admiration of 
all readers, who, being sustained by no popular sym- 
pathy, delight their private friends with those powers 
which were meant to charm the world. Our public 
allows the author of "The Idle Man" to go in si- 
lence to the grave. He endeavored to speak, but 
the public pressed both hands upon his lips, and cried 
"We will not hear thee." Should the writer be si- 
lenced in the same way, his pride would be flattered 
at the expense of his purse. There is a fair field in 
America for many avocations, but literature and art 
are not heartily cherished. Whoever makes literature 
his only pursuit is almost as much out of place in the 
United States as a goldsmith would be in the wilds 
of Oregon. If an American succeeds in literary 
pursuits abroad, his country vociferously claims him 
as hers, and complains of his want of national feel- 
ing; as a father, who, though having enough and to 
spare, should withhold bread from a helpless child, 
and compel him to seek a home among strangers, 



ADVERTISEMENT. 5 

and then should wonder why his son left his father's 
house, and should lament the decay of filial affection. 
" Who reads an American book," might often be an- 
swered, the English read it first, and if John Bull con- 
demns it, brother Jonathan says that "he never 
thought that the book was worth a moment's atten- 
tion;" and, if, on the contrary, John Bull likes it, 
brother Jonathan goes quietly to the nearest book- 
store and buys a copy, not without wondering why 
Americans write books, when English ones reprinted 
can be bought so much cheaper, goes home, takes a 
seat, rubs his eyes, puts on his spectacles, takes up 
the book, reads it slowly through, and, although, be- 
fore, he had not, perhaps, even looked inside its 
covers, exclaims, when he has finished it, with an air 
of profound originality, " John Bull's opinion agrees 
precisely with mine; — I always thought that the book 
was a good one," — and then he adds in a lower tone, 
"still, I think that the price is rather high." 

The writer here commences this serial work, hav- 
ing few hopes of its success, but, anticipating that 
the coldness of its reception will confirm his convic- 
tion, that, if he would devote himself to literature, he 
must hope to find more favorable ears than those of 
his countrymen. 

These few paragraphs have been written with the 
consciousness that some one, at whatever sacrifice 
of personal feeling, should speak a little wholesome 
truth about a matter, concerning which there is in 
the community much blindness; and it is better that 
it should be spoken by an American, since, if for- 
eigners tell us of our faults, however good-naturedly, 
we fly into a passion, and complain of European 
1* 



6 ADVERTISEMENT. 

prejudices. Warmer and kinder friends than the 
writer has found here, he nowhere expects to find, 
but he professes to have some independence of spirit, 
and a wish to exercise himself in a lawful trade — and 
such is literature. He shall hold out his hand, until 
it be grasped, if it be only for his importunity. It is 
not always one's duty to decline giving even a word 
or a look of appeal, either for himself, or for others. 

W. G. D. 

Cambridge, August, 1847. 



THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 



I desire to introduce to your acquaintance, gentle 
readers, a select party of friends who are wont to as- 
semble, to amuse and instruct their minds, at the 
house of a kind-hearted, venerable. Christian mer- 
chant, who has benevolently opened his doors for the 
praiseworthy purpose. He is well nigh threescore 
years of age, but retains much youthful vivacity, with 
which he delights all who come within the circle of 
his cheerful fireside. He has found time, whilst en- 
gaged in his calling, to cultivate his mind by reading, 
study and reflection. Thus, he is not one of those 
who can be eloquent upon the current prices of goods 
in the market, and describe the best way of keeping 
accounts, with the ardor of a mathematician in solving 
a problem, but whose eyes become vacant, and whose 
nodding heads betray their listnessness, when any 
subject is introduced, that lies above the domain of 
pounds, shillings and pence. On the contrary, he 
loves intellectual society, and has gathered about 
him a few friends, who are of like mind with himself. 
He is very cheerful, and loves a good-natured re- 
partee, or a witty turn of expression, but he makes a 



8 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE, 

distinction between these and mere vanity and in- 
sipidity. He lives in his rural retreat, which he sel- 
dom leaves for the city, and then he returns to it as 
soon as possible, because he wishes to pass the few 
years or days that may be left to him in the improve- 
ment of his mind, and heart. He has given over his 
business into the hands of his sons, who follow in their 
father's steps, and show no less tact in business, for 
being men of enlarged minds and liberal training. 
His benevolence makes the whole region about him 
rejoice, and he never walks abroad without being 
cheered by the smiles of those who have formerly re- 
ceived benefits from him, or who know and respect 
his worth. The principles of religion guided him in 
his mercantile pursuits, and now, in his declining age, 
they throw a peculiar beauty around his hoary head. 
He never intentionally overreached his neighbors, 
and, although, accordingly, he has not, in many 
cases, gained so much as otherwise he might have 
done, he has attained more in reputation than he has 
lost in money. He never rejoiced in any man's af- 
fliction, but he has often said that he never felt that 
Divine justice is more plainly exemplified upon earth, 
than when a dealer, who has kept on hand a store- 
house of wheat, for the sake of gaining eventually an 
exorbitant price, when his neighbors were starving to 
death, is himself reduced, by ruinous traffic, to the 
borders of starvation. 

The upright and enlightened merchant, whose love 
of gain stifles not his sympathies, and disturbs not his 
progress in virtue and knowledge, is one of the most 
useful and honorable of men. He contributes greatly 
to encourage good-feeling and a sense of mutual de- 



THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. . 9 

pendence, which are strong safeguards of interna- 
tional peace. He gives and gains at the same time, 
and makes strangers friends. His pursuit has beea 
the source of many evils, but so has been every vo- 
cation of man. The scholar, though engaged upon 
matters, which, one would think, would litlt him above 
jealousy and prejudice, has often been the subject 
and the victim of both. One pursues power and an- 
other renown too eagerly, and, at length, destroy 
themselves, and injure their fellow-men; yet power 
and renown, if sought for the sake of good, are 
worthy goals of ambition, and so wealth, if obtained 
by one, who has sought it, not to improve himself 
alone in respect of social, moral and mental condition, 
is of good account. The upright and generous mer- 
chant is esteemed by all, whether he gain much or 
little. At his death he is mourned as a good citizen 
and worthy man, and his name is long cherished 
in the grateful hearts of the community. The mere 
sharper, however, whose only aim is to get money, 
and to spend or keep it for himself alone, however 
wealthy he may be, is saluted, perhaps, in the street, 
with the cold nod of outward respect, and is courted 
by the smiles and compliments of those who hope one 
day to enjoy his property, but he is not beloved or es- 
teemed in the heart. He may be followed to the 
grave by a pompous funeral train, but there all 
thoughts of him die, and he is remembered no more. 
The mansion of our wise entertainer is in a lovely 
district upon the bank of a river. Declining from the 
house to the water is a sloping lawn, which in sum- 
mer revels in delightful green, and in winter glistens 
with its white mantle in the sun. The trees of a thick 



10 THE WINTER eVeNING FIRESIDE. 

forest, that extends as far as the eye can see, on either 
side, on the opposite bank of the river, that winds 
along in many tiny bays and little coves, are reflected 
in the days of heat in the clear stream below. Their 
leaves then move as if bathing in the cool element, 
and rejoicing in the gentle sport; but, when the cold 
days approach, they wither sadly away, and the trees 
stretch forth their stiff arms, covered with icicles, 
that glisten in the clear sun like every kind of pre- 
cious gems. A party of youthful skaters may be 
seen, of a holiday afternoon, gliding rapidly along 
their silvery path, while their cheeks redden in the 
healthful exercise, their spirits are animated by the 
bracing air, and their shrill voices of delight echo 
against the banks of the river and the walls of the 
house, as though a thousand fairies were at their 
jocund games, f Of a sharp, cold night, one would be 
in doubt which shone the brightest, the stars that 
twinkle far up in the sky, or those that answer to them 
in the ice below. The moon, when she has risen high 
on her nocturnal march, throws around the whole 
scene a magical beauty, which is not surpassed by 
the glory of a clear summer night. Sometimes the 
merry voices of the skaters give place to the loud 
wail of the wind, [the snow falls thick and fast upon 
the earth and river, masses of black cloud rush so 
rapidly through the sky, that the stars, occasionally 
seen through their interstices, seem like meteors 
flashing out upon the angry firmament; — and the trees 
shake off their glittering gems, to contend with the 
furious elements, and roll this way and that, like ves- 
sels laboring in the waves of the ocean. The mind 
is awed by the grandeur of the scene, and one feels 



THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 11 

how severe as well as mild are the mysterious powers 
of nature. In the evening, when the winter day is 
over, and the party of friends assemble, as they do 
once in the week, in the well-filled library of the hos- 
pitable mansion, where a bright fire gladdens the 
room, the face of the venerable merchant glows with 
animation, and he salutes one after another of his 
visitors as they come in, with a winning smile that ex- 
presses the kindness of his heart, and he shakes the 
hand of each with a cordiality that admits no doubt of 
his welcome. Whatever be the weather without, 
cheerfulness is within. ^ 

His lady sometimes joins the party, and her unas- 
suming deportment, mingled with the sedate dignity 
that becomes her matronly years, and the mild grace 
with which her casual remarks are made, win the 
sincere respect of her delighted auditors. She makes 
no pretensions to intellectual superiority, and if ever 
she uses a little quiet scorn, it is only when she sees 
a lady vain of her mental accomplishments. She has 
an excellent natural taste, and her opinions always 
gain attention if not concurrence. 

A lady who has an acquaintance with graceful 
literature moves not from her sphere, and must be a 
pleasant companion; but what man, when, in the 
evening he enters his family circle, to be refreshed 
and cheered by easy converse, would care to be 
saluted, not with pleasant smiles and gentle words, 
that show a warm and affectionate heart, but with a 
cold look of stern abstraction, and the question pro- 
posed with all the preciseness of Socratic disputation, 
" Well, Sir, what do you think of the Pythagorean 
system of philosophy .^ " 



12 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

Sometimes there sits by the mother's side a youth- 
ful daughter, whose cheeks tinged with delicate 
bloom, and whose full, dark eyes, radiant with in- 
telligence and spirit, make the beholder glad with 
gazing on her lovely face, while her graceful mien, 
her speech, musical as a silver bell, displaying now 
and then exquisite thoughts, set in choicest expres- 
sion, that flash resplendently upon the listener's mind, 
charm every one at the happy fireside. All that is 
sweet and delightful in nature, the glories of each 
gorgeous season, serene contemplation amid scenes 
of rural peacefulness^the careful reading of the best 
and purest books, the cheerful and now pensive music 
of the voice and harp, ignorance of the gay world, 
and mild, parental love that has watched each dawn- 
ing trait of the mind and heart, and checked or nur- 
tured it with constant care, have made her a fair 
exemplar of young female loveliness, while her seem- 
ing unconsciousness of being comely in person or at- 
tractive in mind, make her the more beloved and 
beautiful. From earliest childhood to the period 
of now dawning maturity, the guiding hand of the 
Church has led her willing steps through all the 
changes of the Christian year, and has infused into 
her mind a love of her solemn services, and of the re- 
ligion enshrined within them. She is the almoner of 
her parent's bounty among the neighboring poor, who 
regard her coming step as that of an angel visitant, 
and whose eyes fill with tears of grateful joy, as they 
look on that fair young face, beaming with health 
and beauty, and adorned with that endearing, sweet 
expression, which the performance of well-known duty 
impresses upon the countenance. Her hearty saluta- 



THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 13 

tion, remembered with pleasure in the ear, when 
the voice itself is still, her words of consolation, full 
of the wisdom of age, yet uttered with the simplicity 
of a little child, the service of her hands given, when 
it is needed, for a sufferer's comfort, her sunny 
smiles, that warm the coldest heart, all show how 
amiable are the errands of mercy. 

How lovely is early piety. When the sacred 
truths of religion make the youthful heart beat with 
the pulsations of immortal life, and conscious of alle- 
giance to the Lord of heaven and earth, fill it with 
the high sense of Christian duty, and bear the spirit 
upward and onward, like the morning sun, to dispel 
many a cloud from the face of sorrow, and to illume 
many a dark abode with the radiance of heaven, the 
angels look down admiringly from their residence of 
ineffable light, and by divine commission overshadow 
with their wings the mortal creature, keeping away 
the glare of a fantastic world, and, by their mysterious 
power making known their guardian presence, whis- 
per sweet thoughts into the patient ear, and breathe 
into the enraptured soul bright hopes of endless joy. 

It is time that I should speak of the party who as- 
semble at the Winter Evening Fireside. The rector 
of the parish is usually present. He believes that the 
Church of England is the best branch of the Catholic 
Church, in very many respects, though he admits, 
that, practically, there is much to rectify and to 
amend. He belongs to the defensive portion of the 
Church; not that he questions the acts or motives of 
those who are aggressive upon forms of error, but he 
thinks that to every disposition belongs an appropriate 
duty, and that his leads him to put on the armor of 
2 



14 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

defence, rather than to take in hand the weapons of 
attack. He passes his life in the secluded, hut most 
noble duties of a Christian pastor. He has but one 
living, and, although, as a man of acknowledged 
ability and worth, he might easily reap the income of 
more, he declines doing so, because he cannot believe 
that the Church of England is so destitute of faithful 
men, as to require the apostolic precept, " The la- 
borer is worthy of his hire," to be read, one laborer 
is worthy of the hire of many. He engages in exer- 
cises that invigorate the frame, and refresh the mind, 
without distracting wholly his attention from the du- 
ties of his sacred calling. He never joins in the 
chase; for he has compared together the best com- 
mentators upon the New Testament, both the fathers 
of the Church, and more recent divines, and has re- 
flected long and patiently upon the matter, but cannot 
satisfy himself that the injunction, "Feed my lambs," 
should be understood as a command to hunt foxes. 

He has a practice, which is certainly worthy of 
imitation. When severe pastoral duties have occu- 
pied his whole attention during the week, he never 
{>resents to his people the hasty compound of a Sat- 
urday evening's preparation, but reads to them a 
plain, practical sermon from Barrow, or a glowing 
one from Jeremy Taylor. Many of his parish are 
sensible enough to know, and the rest have the 
charity to believe, that a man with a jaded mind 
cannot write intellectual, persuasive discourses, that 
shall enchain thought and feeling, and are gratified 
rather than annoyed by their rector's course in this 
respect. They say truly, that if a man will hear for 
the hundredth time with renewed delight a drama that 



THE WINTER EA^ENING FIRESIDE. 15 

represents scenes and characters of time only, why 
should not discourses, full of the spirit of immortal 
truth, composed by the masters of sacred eloquence, 
be read again and again for the improvement of a 
congregation ? 

His people all regard him with esteem and love. 
His mind and manners having received the highest 
culture, he is equal to the instruction of all classes. 
Indeed, the man of superior refinement will delight 
with his easy gracefulness the peasantry by the way- 
side, and the glittering assembly of a royal court. The 
simplicity of nature and the highest cultivation are 
alike affected by true courtesy, and each can equally 
well detect its absence, whilst the man who is half- 
trained only, in mental discipline or in politeness of 
manner, will be at home nowhere; but will displease 
some by his fawning air, and others by his haughti- 
ness. Hence our clergyman, by his winning ways 
and easy adaptation of himself to the circumstances 
in which he may be placed, has a wonderful influence 
over his people, which a heart, deeply imbued with 
the spirit of his faith, leads him to use for the highest 
and noblest purposes. His eloquence in the pulpit so 
combines plain good sense with a glowing fancy and 
a zeal for truth, that one knows not by which he is 
most affected in his discourses, their practical force 
upon the mind and heart, or their simple beauty of 
expression. Reason and imagination so inform each 
other in his efforts, that his arguments are not dry, his 
rhetoric flighty or his appeals without a soul, but the 
hearer is at the same time pleased and persuaded. 

He deems it the highest privilege of his calling to 
nurture the young in the principles and practice of 



16 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

religion, and he endeavors, by kind counsel, to direct 
aright their ways and thoughts, to excite and cherish 
loyalty to the Christian Church, and to defend them 
with its powerful shield. The vicious and profane he 
rebukes with so much firmness and yet so calmly, as 
one who is conscious of his own imperfections, that he 
generally brings them to thoughtfulness and reforma- 
tion. He never proselytes among those who are not 
of his communion, but, by the serene beauty of his 
Christian example, and his loveliness of deportment, 
gains the sincere tribute of esteem for himself, if not 
of attachment for his church. 

Although he regrets that the voice of the Church 
is not definitively uttered at the present day by a 
solemn convocation, he endeavors faithfully to ascer- 
tain it by a diligent comparison of the chief author- 
ities. To the sacred Scriptures he gives his best and 
most earnest attention. The sound doctrine, the 
practical wisdom, the conservative principles, the 
simple, thoughtful eloquence, with which abound the 
writings of the divines of the Church of England, are 
frequently the subject of his thoughtful reading and 
meditation. The pages of the discreet and excellent 
Hooker, the advocate of the whole Church, and not 
of any division of it, he especially studies as an expo- 
sition of faith and discipline. 

Another friend, who joins the circle, is an elderly 
gentleman, who, for many years, has devoted himself 
to antiquarian pursuits. He cares more for the races 
that have died, than for living men about him. Any 
thing recommended to his notice because it is new, 
he passes by without a look or a word, but when any 
thing old is presented to him, his eyes glisten, and 



THE WINTER EVEXIXG FIRESIDE. 17 

his trembling lips speak his joyful excitement. The 
only periodical of the day which he condescends to 
read is the Retrospective Journal. He thinks that 
all the intellect which the world has ever seen is to be 
found in days long past. He loves to pore over old 
books, and regards an author's antiquity as the surest 
proof of his excellence. Many a poor author, could 
he break the silence of the grave, would most humbly 
thank him, v/hose diligent search into the abyss of for- 
gotten literature has found some musty volume which 
was unnoticed at its first appearance, but which is so 
set off by the halo of antiquity, as to draw towards it 
a brief regard. Our antiquary never presumes to 
conjecture what will be, seldom to con*;ider what is, 
but delights to imagine what has been. He dresses 
in rusty black, because it implies age. He would 
prefer to inhabit some old baronial castle, with bats 
and owls for his companions, than to live in the royal 
palace, surrounded by gay courtiers. His love of 
what is old overcomes even his loyalty, and, hence, 
although not a Puritan, he values a button of one of 
Oliver Cromwell's coa.ts more than he would esteem 
one of Victoria's crown jewels. He prefers a copper 
coin, stamped in Queen Elizabeth's day, to a guinea 
fresh from the mint. He is occasionally made the 
sport of thoughtless persons, who palm off upon him, 
as original specimens, ingeniously constructed imita- 
tions, of ancient workmanship. The old man is very 
easy of belief respecting the past, but very incredu- 
lous with regard to the present. A wag in the neigh- 
borhood once remarked, that the antiquary was 
doubtful of his own personality, for that, being a mat- 
ter of the present moment, was very questionable. 
2* 



18 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

He is an excellent classical scholar, as may be sup- 
posed. He once wrote a very learned paper on the 
various uses of the Latin word "itaque," and he is 
said to have read through the works of Cicero, to as- 
certain the different meanings of the phrase " necesse 
est," when used with the subjunctive mode. The 
results of his examination he expressed in a very long 
essay, which he offered to one of our chief book- 
sellers for publication, but was coldly repulsed by the 
remark that the essay would be uninteresting to gene- 
ral renders, and that scholars were commonly too 
poor to buy such works. The disappointed man still 
kept his treatise by him, waiting for the time when clas- 
sical learning shall be more v/idely appreciated, and 
his brow be adorned with the laurels of scolastic fame. 

His house is a quaint building, full of all the oddi- 
ties of which an antiquarian fancy can conceive. He 
has a few vases of true Etruscan origin, mixed with 
many that are of doubtful genuineness, representa- 
tions in plaster of every famous temple or theatre 
of antiquity, and busts of all the great men, and maps 
of distinguished battles, in which was displayed an- 
cient valor. These he has carefully studied in con- 
nection with the old writers about them, and he loves 
to describe, for the entertainment of his visitors, how 
Caesar gained this battle, how the power of Xerxes 
was withstood, and how manfully Scipio met the onset 
of his foe. His lively eye follows every motion, and 
a little wand, directed by his busy fingers, points out 
every remarkable locality. 

His disposition is lively and cheerful, and he is es- 
teemed as an agreeable companion. He has collected 
together a vast number of incidents about ancient 



THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 19 

times, and these, together with the oftentimes valu- 
able information which he is able to give, afford 
pleasure and improvement to his friends. He hearti- 
ly enjoys the society where his tastes and opinions 
are respected. Whenever, in any company in which 
he may be, any pleasant or witty remark is made, he 
stamps with both feet upon the floor, lifts up both 
hands, and while a smile of satisfaction spreads over 
his features, cries out, " bless me, I wish that I had 
said that." 

An unjust prejudice sometimes regards the anti- 
quary as a man actuated by mere idle curiosity. The 
desire of knowing accurately about events, places 
and manners of past days, impels him to diligence in 
his pursuit, and, since the attainment of such know- 
ledge may in a thousand ways benefit the world, the 
antiquary should not be regarded as engaged in 
worthless labors. Every department of literature is 
indebted to him. The historian, if not himself an 
antiquary, very greatly depends upon his aid in col- 
lating ancient records. A sort of instinct enables the 
delver into the past to collect, from various sources, 
materials to supply or to confirm the works of men 
more ambitious in the paths of literature. Biography 
owes more, perhaps, than history, to the labors of the 
antiquary, who delights especially in procuring inci- 
dents of personal history. The historian busies him- 
self about great men, only inasmuch as they have 
produced or guided great events, and had an influence 
upon society at large, whilst the biographer presents 
remarkable events only because of their bearing upon 
the private character which he describes. The histo- 
rian deals with men as actors; the biographer with 



20 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

actors as men. Thus the antiquary favors that de- 
lightful department of literature, which displays the 
distinguished men of ancient times in all the rela- 
tions of life. The poet relies upon the antiquary for 
the collection of many beautiful legends and ro- 
mances which enlarge the field of his illustration, or 
afford subjects to be wrought into the graceful forms 
and figures of poetry. The man, vv-ho has, as deeply 
as any ou'C, impressed the popular fancy of the pres- 
ent century, was himself a distinguished antiquary, 
and thus is accounted for much of Sir Walter Scott's 
success. His strong imagination threw a coloring, 
sombre or bright, over the ancient customs and his- 
tory of his native land; and from the rude materials 
before hira, he fashioned many beautiful figures, like 
glowing statuary from the rough quarry. 

Th« highly amusing memoirs that have been pub- 
lished of Mr. Oldbuck of Monkbarns, have somewhat 
contributed, perhaps, to bring ridicule upon antiqua- 
ries, and yet no result could have been farther from 
the intention of the excellent gentleman who composed 
them. But those who laugh at the imkind pranks and 
practical jokes, which a certain Edie Ochiltree, of 
very doubtful reputation, at the best, played at the 
expense of this worthy antiquary, of whom I have 
spoken, should beware lest they be found wanting in 
respect towards a most honorable class of individuals. 

Another of the visitors is a man of a philosophical 
turn of mind, who has read the works of the best 
writers in his chosen branch of study with a deep and 
thoughtful attention. He is not one of those geniuses 
who complain of study and reading as obstacles in 
the way of original thought. He often smiles when 



THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 21 

he hears men who pride themselves upon their powers 
of reflection, state opinions with the bold air of having 
said what no one ever thought of, and thinks within 
himself that what seems to them to be so profound 
and new may be found expressed in a thousand books. 
He says, that, when his mind was first directed to- 
Vv'ards philosophical studies, he felt as though he were 
entering a field, where, at every step, he should find 
some new thing that had escaped the observation of 
every one who had examined the ground before him. 
His pulse beat high at his prospect of the discoveries 
which he was about to make in the science of the 
mind. His mortification was great, to find oftentimes 
that thoughts, which were perfectly new to him, and 
which he supposed would be equally so to every one 
else, had been more profoundly expressed by others,^ 
and more variously applied. His pride of intellect 
was soon humbled, and he was convinced that the 
search after wholly new ideas is very much like try- 
ing to discover new elements of nature, and that the 
highest ambition of the philosopher must be content 
with ascertaining, perhaps, some new application of 
old and well-known truths. The efiect of this whole- 
some discipline has been to throw over his disposition 
a modest, Attic grace, which makes him seem, while 
uttering his best and noblest thoughts, to be merely 
recalling ideas to the recollection of his friends, who, 
in fact, generally hear them from his lips with the ad- 
miring surprise with which one looks for the first 
time upon the beautiful works of creative art. 

He is conscious of the peculiar difficulties to be en- 
countered by one who wishes to understand the work- 
ing of the wondrous machine of thought, such as the 



22 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

firm and constant concentration of the mind upon a 
single point, the painful notice of minute differences 
and agreements, the pursuit of a primary principle 
through intricacies without number. But, in solving 
intellectual problems, no difficulty appears to him so 
great as that of avoiding the play of the fancy and of 
remaining sternly under the guidance of pure reason. 
He regards the action of the imagination, whilst one 
is engaged in a philosophical exercise, as being really 
as mischievous, though not, perhaps, so manifestly as 
would be the conduct of a mathematician, who, be- 
ing employed about an astronomical calculation, 
should become vexed with the perpetual recurrence 
of sines and cosines, and should give himself up to the 
sway of his fancy, and interweave her airy gossamer 
with the threads of exact demonstration. He admits 
that there are poetical associations about philoso- 
phy, as about mathematics. It startles the imagina- 
tion to consider, that, by the use of simple signs, one 
may calculate the motions of the universe of stars, 
and, by some fixed principles, may approximate to 
the solution of the vast problems of the human soul, 
and may learn the sources and the means of intellect- 
ual action. Nevertheless, the astronomer must re- 
fuse to hear the " music of tlie spheres," which en- 
trances the poet's soul, and the mental philosopher 
must regard a glittering fancy as a marshy light that 
leads travellers astray. Hence, although he acknow- 
ledges that there is much that is fascinating in modern 
transcendentalism, yet to dignify it, a scheme " of 
imagination all compact," by the name of philosophy, 
or to give it a place amongst accredited systems, he 
feels, would be itself an act of the imagination, since 



THE WINTER EVENIxXG FIRESIDE. 23 

it is by this faculty, according to the great poet, that 
we give to "airy nothing a local habitation and a 
name." He pictures to himself a Transcendentalist 
as a man, with the robes of the Academy half off his 
shoulders, with wild, staring eyes, and a pallid face, 
who now walks upon the ground, then suddenly stops, 
then lifts up both arms, as if about to fly, and, finding 
that he cannot succeed, goes quietly on his way 
again; who prefers the fanciful German mind to the 
sound and sober English; who talks incoherently 
about dualities and idealities, and when he happens to 
think, calls himself inspired; — in short, a philosopher 
run mad. 

The philosopher may, indeed, be a poet, but when 
he seeks the quiet walks of philosophy, he must hang 
his harp upon the willow, and have a care, lest the 
beauty of the landscape, that stretches out before 
him, the murmur of streamlets, that flow calmly by, 
or the fragrance of flowers, that line his pathway, 
withdraw his mind from unbending allegiance to the 
reason alone. He cannot, indeed, otherwise express 
his ideas than by figures of speech, but let his 
thoughts, however clothed, appeal to the calm and 
serene judgment of those who regard him as their 
intellectual teacher. The poet is, as it were, the pas- 
sive recipient of outward impressions, the philosopher 
earnestly strives for his thoughts. It is easy and de- 
lightful to imagine ; it is painful and wearisome to 
reason. The poet's mind is a crucible of resplendent 
molten silver, that reflects upon its face with new 
beauty outward forms in figures that are intangible, 
but the philosopher's mind is the hard, rough graver 



24 THE WINTER ifv^ENING FIRESIDE. 

of the silversmith, which, heing carefully wielded, 
elaborates substantial figures. 

Our friend leads an intense intellectual life, and, 
accordingly, he finds food for thought not in books 
alone, but in every object of the external world, on 
which he gazes with the interest of one who seeks to 
discover cause and effect in all things. At every 
step a new wonder meets him. Life, in its various 
forms; in the bird that warbles in his ear, in the tree 
that lifts its foliage to the sun, and in man himself, is 
to him full of startling mystery; nor is death less so, 
when the song of the bird is hushed, when the leaves 
decay, and when the fire of the human eye is 
quenched. Those spiritual agencies, which lie be- 
neath all created forms, so potent and manifest in 
their effects, yet so unappreciable by any finite 
sense, awaken his deepest thoughts, and lead him on 
through many a mental labyrinth, where he loses 
himself again and again, and, where, when he thinks 
that he has found the clear pathway, he is but drawn 
more and more into the perplexing maze. When he 
considers the wonders of humanity, he shrinks from 
saying, l^lw can find out God ? but, in the depths of 
his humility at being unable to explain questions which 
a wayside walk suggests, he exclaims, with trem- 
bling lips, Who tan even find out man, and the wonders 
of his intellectual being"? He unites Christian faith 
with his pursuit, and since there is so much that is 
mysterious in philosophy, his reason persuades him, 
independently of the fact, that mysteries both deep 
and sublime are to be found in religion. 

I now present to your notice a man, whose poeti- 
cal temperament makes him welcome at the evening 



THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 25 

fireside. He is of middle age, and has borne through 
life many a sorrow, which tinges with melancholy a 
face which would otherwise express but the most joy- 
ful enthusiasm. Yet pleasant words and looks al- 
ways greet his friends, who are affected by the se- 
verity of discipline which they know that he has expe- 
rienced, and by the amiability of spirit which will not 
allow him to disturb the happiness of others. In his 
deportment is always manifest a delightful serenity. 
Even when he becomes excited by some glowing 
theme of discourse, his presence of mind never de- 
serts him, but he maintains a majestic calmness of 
demeanor, which is infinitely more impressive than 
the wildest outbreak of furious passion, which alone, 
in the opinion of some, shows an imaginative disposi- 
tion. He is conversant with the highest themes of 
poetry, not only with the forms of outward nature, 
but with the highest expressions of intellectual beauty 
and grandeur. The notion that the poetical faculty 
is injured by the refinements of social life, and by 
generous culture, he rejects as being untrue, alike in 
reason and in fact. He affirms with truth, that our 
faculties, being capable of indefinite improvement, 
are evidently meant to be so improved, but, that, if 
the imagination, one of our noblest powers, be more 
developed in a rude than in an enlightened soul, then 
we need not strive for its improvement, and thus the law 
of progress, one of the highest that rule the spiritual 
creation, must be, in one of its most important appli- 
cations, reversed. The influence of the imagination 
refines and exalts the soul, and, if a judgment may be 
formed from this most manifest efTect, we may con- 
clude that savages have been almost unmoved by 
3 



26 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

scenes of wild sublimity or of serene and quiet 
beauty, that would strongly impress a cultivated 
mind. Where the senses have been educated, the 
moral nature been refined by the sympathies of social 
life, and the hopes of the soul been awakened, the 
imagination is most powerfully affected. 

'■^ The rill is tuneless to his ear who feels 
No harmony within 5 the south wind steals 
As silent as unseen amongst the leaves. 
Who has no inward beauty, none perceives, 
Though all aroynd be beautiful." 

He has a high sense of the vocation of the bard. 
" The Poets," he says, " are a royal race. The glori- 
ous reign of Q,ueen Elizabeth is no more hers than that 
of William Shakespeare. There lived a king in Eng- 
land, at the time of the Commonwealth, who passed 
among men as 'one Mr. Milton'; and, even now, 
in the north of the same island, lives a king, who, 
from his humble cottage near lake Windermere, ex- 
tends a sceptre more potent than Victoria's from her 
proudest palace. Staunch republicans pay allegiance 
to him, and on his brow is set a diadem, radiant, not 
with gems and gold, but with living light. When the 
poet's form has become dust, his spirit, yet present in 
his works, exercises still more powerful sway over the 
minds of men. As many a person, who on earth was 
unknown beyond his narrow circle, may, in the future 
world, be admired by myriads of celestial intelli- 
gences, so the memory of the poet, whether his brow 
were adorned or not with an emerald crown, abides 
for ever, and glows with intensest lustre, when impe- 
rial glory has passed away. 



THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 27 

Men gaze with exultation upon the sun, when he 
first rises majestically above the horizon, yet, after- 
wards, they rejoice quietly and almost unconsciously 
in his animating beams; and, when the gladsome ec- 
stasy is over, with which the power of the great Poet 
is first acknowledged, men's minds yield spontane- 
ously to the gentle influence, which, informing them 
with intellectual warmth, produces many a glowing- 
thought and beautiful reflection, as the genial solar 
heat causes to spring forth from the green earth the 
fairest fruits and flowers." 

He cannot agree with those, who seem to think 
that the day of great poets is almost over, and that 
coming time may not produce as high poetical crea- 
tions, as those, that, in time past, have afforded sweet 
delight. " The face of nature," he says, " is yearly 
clad with as lovely verdure, and in the heart of the 
forest as lofty trees lift their summits to the skies, as in 
days gone by; the " human face divine " still glows 
with life and beauty; and it is unreasonable to sup- 
pose that, in God's perpetual exercise of new creative 
power, intelligence alone may fail, and that as lofty 
minds, as are enshrined in classic associations, may 
not again be clothed with mortality. If Providence 
has allowed distinguished minds to flourish in the 
midst of Pagan superstition, we may conclude that he 
also has permitted and will again permit them to ap- 
pear under the more inspiring and genial influences 
of the Christian faith. He has a low notion of Al- 
mightiness who thinks that the w^orld may never add 
to the circle of her greatest bards as glorious names 
as Homer, Virgil, Shakespeare and Milton. History, 
since the time of Shakespeare, is as full of incidents, 



28 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

worthy of dramatic representation, as that before him. 
The long contests of the House of Stuart with the 
people of England, and of George the third, with his 
American colonies, are more significant, more grand 
and impressive, than the quarrels of the Red and 
White Roses. The life and death of the unhappy 
Charles afford a subject for a most exciting and af- 
fecting tragedy. If the dramatic Muse would present 
scenes of blood, before which the heart of the wife of 
Macbeth would quail, the pages of French history, 
before the Empire, are open; and the career of Na- 
poleon Bonaparte himself is more full of various 
events, of loftiness and lowliness, and ends more ig- 
nobly, more solemnly than the life of Richard the 
third. Or, if she would present scenes of quiet love- 
liness, and illustrations of the gentle sympathies of 
life, the world is as beautiful as ever, and the human 
heart is not yet dead. The fairies may have deserted 
their thrones among the roses, but modern fancy de- 
lights to give to every flower its province in the do- 
main of sentiment; and guardian angels still watch 
the path of life. Mercy is as amiable, self-devotion is 
as sublime, love is as refining and subduing, wit is 
as delightful, beauty is as enchanting now, as when 
the Bard of Avon lived. The success of a living 
writer shows that the simple expression and the deep 
appreciation of natural aflections have not been de- 
stroyed. May we not hope that, sooner or later, some 
poet may arise and gild the themes of dramatic song 
about him with his magic fancy, and make the world 
weep and smile at his triumphant will? 

As regards epic poetry, too, some men complain 
with pensive faces, that there can be no more epic 



THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 29 

poems, as if a master-mind could not make a subject, 
if one were not ready at his hand: and, yet, they say 
thus, when they must needs know, that nobler events 
than was the seige of Troy, have happened since Ho- 
mer sang; that associations connected with the found- 
ing of other nations, are more glorious than those 
that have made Virgil's name immortal; that Milton 
has sung but half this majestic theme. Here, again, 
the only real difficulty is, to find the epic poet. 
Men may spin their subtile reasons, but, let there 
be an epic poet, and all transcendental difficulties 
in the way of another epic poem would vanish 
into the same thin air, from which they sprung." 
When our friend considers the hopes that may be 
reasonably entertained of the future triumphs of the 
Muse, he asks, "whether one can help spontaneously 
offering the invocation, that the blest saint, who, 
when on earth, ' blind, and with dangers compassed 
round,' sang in lofty measure man's lost estate, may 
let fall his mantle of resplendent light, glowing with 
celestial colors, upon some mortal, whom, in time to 
come, God may, perhaps, vouchsafe to send, to whom 
it may be given to sing in worthy numbers the glori- 
ous sequel of his noble song." 



On the evening appointed for the first meeting of 
the season, the persons whom I have described were 
assembled at the fireside. A smile of happy greeting 
played upon every face, and each shook the hand of 
each with ^pleasant words of congratulation. A glow- 
ing ardor beamed from the face of the host, as he ex- 
pressed his emotion at once more meeting his wel- 
3* 



30 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

come guests, who reciprocated the feeling, and 
showed in their demeanor an easy, quiet freedom, a 

alike removed from cold, ungracious reserve, and un- ] 

due familiarity. The antiquary was in usual spirits, 
and seemed to be desirous of calling the general at- 
tention to a wonderful coin which had just been pre- 
sented to him by a courteous friend, who had himself 
procured it of the enthusiastic and obliging dealer 
in classical antiquities at Civita Vecchia, the shelves 
of whose shop, where all strangers spend an enter- 
taining hour, are covered with rusty looking vases, 
of all shapes, on which are imprinted figures of an- 
cient deities, and groups representing various avoca- 
tions of life, with little monuments and statutes in 
bronze, both old and modern, cases of curious ca- 
meos, pictures of ancient buildings, antique coins, 
strange seals, and guide-books for wondering trav- 
ellers. Having compared the figure on the coin with 
an old bust, the antiquary has not the slightest doubt 
that it was struck in the days of Augustus. "You 
cannot imagine," said he, with intense zeal marking 
his countenance, " with what interest I regard an 
old coin. 1 gaze upon it, and fancy through how 
many hands it has passed since it came glittering 
from the mint. The miser has, perhaps, hoarded it 
among his treasures for long and tedious years, and, 
when he has died, and when his ill gotten and worse 
kept wealth has been dispersed, it may have been 
given to some forlorn beggar, who, seizing it with an 
eagerness, which staring famine only could inspire, 
has expressed his earnest, hasty thanks, and, by its 
timely aid, has prolonged his weary life. The 
thoughtless boy may have spent it for some vanity of 



THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 31 

the moment, or one more careful may have kept it 
for a time, and thus foreshadowed the future prudent 
man. Virgil or Horace may have circulated it, and 
even the Imperial hand may have pressed it. When 
it has served its day, it may have lain concealed in 
some sly corner, and, thus, through various adven- 
tures, it has come down to our time," — " and," said 
the clergyman, mildly finishing the sentence, " has at 
length found a safe and welcome home in the cabinet 
of an excellent antiquary, who derives a yearly in- 
terest from his investment in the associations con- 
nected with it." 

Let the discussion about coins proceed, while I in- 
troduce a visitor, whose unostentatious entrance at 
this moment caused a thrill of pleasure. After salut- 
ing the company with a quiet bow, he took his familiar 
seat. He is a young nobleman of the vicinity, who 
esteems it a high privilege to visit on these occasions 
the house of the hospitable merchant, and to spend 
with him some of his best and happiest hours. The old 
hear him speak with pleasure, because he is so re- 
spectful to the teachings of experience, and the young 
listen with gladness to his discourse, because it is so 
full of the spirit and vivacity of youth. By the early 
death of his father, he has become the proprietor of 
the estate of the family, who have held it for a long 
period of time. He has a constant care that the hon- 
ored place, where his fathers have lived and died, 
whose spirits seem yet to linger affectionately about 
it, as if to encourage the maintenance of the same 
strength of character, which has marked the race, 
shall suffer no wrong at his hands, or by his wild ex- 
travagance pass away to strangers. He is kind and 



32 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

urbane towards all who are dependant upon him, and 
he regards them not as having less keen feelings than 
his, but as being affected like himself by smiles and 
frowns. The younger members of the family feel 
that they are not excluded from the patrimony by the 
haughtiness of an elder brother, but they either abide 
with him, or ever find a hearty fraternal welcome, and 
selectest happiness in calling to mind scenes and events 
as dear as the consciousness of life. His steadfast 
and mild expression, and his general demeanor show 
him to be one of those men of powerful but subdued 
impulses, who are always the most entertaining com- 
panions, because they are earnest without being be- 
side themselves, and, being perfectly at ease, please 
people by their conversation without making them 
nervous. He is a pattern of free, discreet and grace- 
ful beneficence, and encourages every honest measure 
which promises sound, judicious reform, or just and 
reasonable conservatism in national affairs. The 
custom which invests the eldest son with the ancestral 
domain, beautiful in theory, but often painful and op- 
pressive in practice, in his case increases faithfulness 
and the sense of responsibility as a Christian citizen. 
He has spent much of his time in the careful reading 
especially of the English authors, towards many of 
whom he has almost a filial esteem. He has enlarged 
his mind by travel, and gained a knowledge of men 
and of the world, and he has little of that insular feel- 
ing, as though nothing can be good which is not 
British, which sometimes disfigures the character of 
Englishmen. 

The clergyman and the antiquary were eager in 
their discussion, and made many learned quotations 



THE WIXTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 33 

from the classics which I am painfully compelled to 
omit, not because I can for a moment doubt that they 
would be interesting to all my readers, but because, 
being very little conversant myself with the classics, 
I know not where to find the quotations, and am 
afraid to ask, lest my purpose should be suspected. 
The antiquary expended much eloquence upon the 
study of ancient coins, and, in the height of his enthu- 
siasm, even suggested that it should be made a part 
of primary education, but he was interrupted by the 
merchant who remarked that he thought that money 
was studied too much already at the present day by 
old and young. The antiquary, with his usual en- 
ergy, wished that he had said that, and then was silent. 
"What are your impressions. Sir Edward, of the 
great Republic?" said the host, addressing the young 
nobleman. " I cannot answer very briefly so compre- 
hensive a question," was the reply, " but I have no 
objection to state some of those that were most deeply 
made upon me during my recent visit to America. 
No one can spend even a short time in that country, 
without being persuaded that the same Almighty hand 
that has made England a garden of beauty, has ex- 
tended the majestic rivers, lifted the high forests and 
mountains, and rolled the vast waterfalls of the new 
world ; that humanity there as here is toiling, weeping, 
rejoicing, amiable or revengeful, humane or heartless, 
inspired by the same hopes, cast down by the same 
fears, excited by the same motives, as resolute or 
fearful in danger, as courageous or timid in death. I 
have come back more strongly attached to the Eng- 
lish constitution, but feeling that in the broad land 
across the sea, is a nation, whose vast, undeveloped, 



34 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

natural resources strike the stranger with awe. I 
have found persons in America more conscious than a 
visitor can be, of many defects, social, political and 
religious; and I have there experienced as courteous 
maintenance of different opinions, as ever at home. 
The Americans have unceasing enterprise, a fearless 
devotion to cherished purposes, a stern, invincible 
spirit of progress; they must act, now or never, are 
impatient, always moving, and wear anxious faces: 
they have generally little European grace and repose 
of character; but we never expect in a young man 
the easy dignity of age, and we should not look for it 
in a young nation, 

I found there, among many reflecting men, a fear 
that instruction and good influences of every kind 
were not keeping pace with the growing extent and 
resources of the nation. I thought that I saw many 
evils, and the germs of many more in the common but 
pernicious fallacy, that the President of a Republic is 
the representative of the people. ' The powers that 
be, are ordained of God,' whether they be civil or 
religious, and one might as well declare that a pastor 
represents the people, over whom he holds spiritual 
jurisdiction, as that a civil ruler represents those, 
whom he is bound to govern in the fear of God, and 
according to established principles and laws. I was 
for a long time at a loss to understand how, under the 
influence of democracy, the writings of the Oxford di- 
vines should have taken a strong hold upon the minds 
of many thoughtful persons in America, but further 
reflection satisfied me, that it was owing in part, at 
least, to a consciousness of the want of conservative 



THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 35 

elements in the state, and to a desire to supply the 
deficiency by exalting the prerogatives of the Church. 
I was surprised to find that wherever the influence 
of the Puritans has extended in America, the proposi- 
tion that the State should educate the people, which 
in England is a matter of serious dispute, is regarded 
as self-evident, and as not admitting a moment's ques- 
tion. Universal education is a great reliance of the 
judicious against democratic excesses, and the most 
enlightened parts of the country witness few of those 
wild and reckless movements which tend to anarchy. 
Indeed, an honorable conservatism as well as the 
most liberal policy demand every where and at all 
times the education of the people, for the national 
welfare can have no stronger safeguard than this. A 
thousand armies cannot shake the stability of a na- 
tion, whose people enjoy the means of mental, moral 
and religious culture, and a thousand armies cannot 
save a nation whose people are without instruction." 
*'But, did you find any thing old in America?" 
inquired the antiquary. " I should fear going myself 
to that country, lest every thing should be so new that 
I should be discontented and unhappy." " Yes, Mr. 
Pastly," answered Sir Edward, "I saw old rivers, 
that have flowed for thousands of years in their ap- 
pointed channels; and old mountains, that still rise as 
majestically as when they first peered above the flood 
of waters. The same sun that illumined the garden 
of Eden lighted my daily path; the same moon that 
then walked in brightness made the night serene and 
beautiful; and the same stars that in the beginning 
were set in the firmament poured their calm radiance 
over me. Nature is older than art, and when I look 



36 THE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. 

upon her enduring tokens that have survived the de- 
cay of nations, and the changes of mankind, I confess 
that ass(H^iations more numerous and more interesting 
crowd upon my mind, than when I gaze upon the ruins 
of an ancient castle, or walk the streets of a deserted 
city. Ages of men may have lived upon the borders 
of some mighty stream, and left behind a few scattered 
memorials of their career, which, when discovered in 
later time, excite curious wonder; and still the stream 
flows on unchangingly, as when it first sought its de- 
vious way through low, wide plains and valleys; the 
only monuments of various races are lofty groves, and 
in some lonely retreats, the ear is startled by the rip- 
pling of the waves and the moaning of winds through 
aisles of the forest, where man once struggled with 
man for brief supremacy, or offered his rude worship 
to the lights of heaven." 

*' Excuse my freedom," interposed the antiquary, 
*' but I think. Sir Edward, that you must have been 
among those dreamers who, I hear, live in America. 
You have become a little flighty since your transat- 
lantic excursion." 



Have patience, my readers, and the account, thus 
abruptly closed, of the evening's conversation, shall be 
resumed, when next we meet. Doubt not that I shall 
faithfully report the contributions of our friends to the 
common pleasure and profit, at their successive enter- 
tainments. May you have peace, happiness and all 
prosperity. Thus ends my salutation. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



mmmi 



015 973 284 8 



